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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26189800">the rumble where you lay</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymeriahale/pseuds/nymeriahale'>nymeriahale</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>honey you're familiar [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rugby RPF, Rugby Union RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, canon typical homophobia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:00:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,274</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26189800</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymeriahale/pseuds/nymeriahale</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Fuck Glasgow,” Jamie decrees before they’ve even made it back into the changing rooms for half time.</p><p>Owen doesn’t say anything, hasn’t said anything other than to encourage his team since the twelfth minute of the game, not even when he’d given in to the urge to join the fight. </p><p>“Fuck Glasgow,” Brad agrees, hot on their heels. “What a bunch of absolute cocks."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Owen Farrell/George Ford (mentioned)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>honey you're familiar [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1017006</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the rumble where you lay</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Warning for canon typical homophobia - discussion of homophobic incident and fresh use of slur by sympathetic character. Precise details in the end note.</p><p>Title from NFWMB by Hozier.</p><p>This is a work of fiction and as such nothing is to be considered implied or insinuated about real life rugby players.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Fuck Glasgow,” Jamie decrees before they’ve even made it back into the changing rooms for half time.</p><p>Owen doesn’t say anything, hasn’t said anything other than to encourage his team since the twelfth minute of the game, not even when he’d given in to the urge to join a fight. </p><p>“Fuck Glasgow,” Brad agrees, hot on their heels. “What a bunch of absolute cocks, I can’t believe someone would do that, I can’t believe -”</p><p>“Are we insulting our generous hosts?” Maro joins the small group that’s forming around Owen’s stall as he resolutely drinks his half time liquids, staring at the floor. “Because they deserve it, every last one of them -”</p><p>Then Mako is joining in, and Jackson, until it feels like half the squad are gathered around Owen.</p><p>The good thing is he now can’t understand a word they’re saying, Owen reflects, pulling his phone from his kitbag - he doesn’t normally do that during a game, wouldn’t normally be allowed, but despite half the squad surrounding him no one says a word. Or, no, that’s not precisely true. They all keep talking, condemning the Glasgow fans, some going so far as to get into the players. But even though Owen is sat at the heart of them, the apparent cause of all this trouble, the supposed focus of their concern, no one is looking at him.</p><p>Owen unlocks his phone to find messages waiting for him from his family, from George. He might have gotten away with using his phone for now but he’s not sure how long that will last, so he opens the messages from George first.</p><p>
  <i>I love you</i>
</p><p>Owen closes his eyes, breathes out.</p><p>He looks up at the players surrounding him and still not one of them is looking back at him, all talking amongst themselves, louder and louder, the insults getting stronger and stronger.</p><p>Owen looks back down.</p><p><i>fuck all of them, they’re assholes, fucking bullies.</i> </p><p>Owen smiles - he can imagine George saying it, imagine the spite in his voice. He does have a defensive streak.</p><p>
  <i>they’ll get kicked out, banned, and they’ll deserve it. fuck them.</i>
</p><p>Owen chokes out half a laugh at that - Brad and Jamie have just got to that point in their discussion, talking about getting the guy’s details so that Sarries can ban him from Allianz Park, too.</p><p>
  <i>I love you</i><br/>
<i>call me if you need to, half time, whenever</i>
</p><p>Owen closes his eyes. That’s tempting. That is so, so tempting. He knows George is at Jonny’s but he wouldn’t have offered if he didn’t think he could cover it up, wasn’t willing to try. Owen looks up at the men around him, assessing. There’s next to no interest in him left at all - he catches Maro glancing his way, and Jamie and Brad are still angled towards him, but the others are flat out turned away by this point. Then Mark McCall enters the room, talking furiously with Alex Sanderson. </p><p>Owen puts the notion aside - even in these circumstances he doubts the idea will fly. Still, he doesn’t put his phone away, reads the rest.</p><p>
  <i>you’ve done a world of good, probably spoiled their fun, fuck them, you’re worth more, have done more, than every Glasgow fan put together</i><br/>
<i>I love you</i>
</p><p>And another,</p><p>
  <i>I love you</i>
</p><p>As if to make sure Owen can’t doubt it.</p><p>Owen breathes out. He has done a world of good, he knows that. If this is the price he has to pay - </p><p><i>probably spoiled their fun</i> - he wonders how much of the censure coming from the stands is rooted in that, is rooted in club players who’ve lost their easy banter, lost their easy outlet. </p><p>If it’s that coming back at him, if this is the cost - he can pay it.</p><p>Owen looks up to find Mark in front of him. “You alright lad?” Mark asks.</p><p>The half of the squad surrounding Owen quiet, every eye turning to him. Owen looks up, glances around at the faces of Brad, Jamie, Maro, Jackson, so many more - all focused on him now, every one concerned. He looks down, squeezes his phone. “Alright,” he shrugs, clearing his throat.</p><p>“The main instigator has been removed, and Glasgow passed his details onto us without us even having to ask,” Mark informs him.</p><p>Owen nods, relaxing as some of the eyes on him turn away, the lads talking amongst themselves again, quietly. They don’t leave, but at least their focus has switched from him to Mark.</p><p>“A lifetime ban is already in process at both their stadium and ours,” Mark is grinning now, Owen can hear it, knows that vicious satisfaction in his tone.</p><p>Owen’s not surprised. He’s impressed they’ve moved so quickly, impressed Glasgow have volunteered the information without being asked, and he can understand Mark’s satisfaction to an extent, feel a degree of it - but it doesn’t change what has happened.</p><p>“Glasgow have been equally quick to condemn the act on social media,” Mark goes on, “and to make clear the consequences if anyone else were to repeat it.”</p><p>“Not doing much to stop those assholes backing him up though, is it,” Jamie puts in.</p><p>Mark sighs, heavy. “They’re not going to do anything about the booing,” he says, turning from Owen to address Brad and Jamie.</p><p>“What?” Brad demands.</p><p>Owen squeezes his phone once more. He’s not surprised, if anything he’s surprised Mark had asked for it. For all it feels different at the moment, feels loaded, an atmosphere like this is still part of rugby.</p><p>“That’s bullshit!” Jamie protests.</p><p>Mark shrugs, Owen can tell by the movement of his hands at his sides. “I left Nigel badgering them about it. We might get a tannoy announcement about the spirit of the game yet, but I don’t think so.”</p><p>“As if they wouldn’t all be yelling ’faggot’ if they thought they could get away with it,” Jackson mutters resentfully.</p><p>Owen flinches, can’t help it, looks up to see Jackson has caught it, looks horrified.</p><p>Owen shakes his head before Jackson can apologise. “Alright!” he says - louder than he meant to, but at least this way his words should be listened to. “Look, I appreciate that you’re all mad but can we talk rugby, please? Or, fuck, anything else. We’ve still got work to do out there,” Owen points out, squeezing his phone in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure of every eye on him. “If you lot want to chat like the match is over I’ll go ring my boyfriend, I’m happy with that,” Owen tries for a joke. “But I’d rather focus on the match, honestly, I’d quite like to make sure we win it. I’ll take anything, I don’t care, just not <i>this</i>.” </p><p>There’s a moment where everyone - stares. Owen had underestimated how much of the sound in the room was coming from the group gathered around him, hadn’t realised how quiet it would become when they stopped.</p><p>“Okay,” Mark claps his hands. “Rugby time everyone, we’ve got a match to win!”</p><p>Mark steps away, they eyes moving with him, and Owen slumps in their absence. It’s a consideration Owen will never be able to repay him for, worth twice any words he might have said to Glasgow’s management and coaching set up.</p><p>Brad reaches out to clasp Owen’s shoulder before following Mark, and Jamie and Maro sit flanking Owen, pressed close. Owen will get up and participate in the conversation in a minute, he has opinions to share, points he wants to make. But for now he sits, as Jamie drops a hand to his thigh and squeezes. He sits, and he breathes.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Detailed warning: discussion of homophobic incident from C25 of thunder under earth (the F-slur is yelled at Owen as he prepares to kick, subsequently every kick of his is booed), in which Jackson Wray claims 'They'd all be yelling 'f****t' if they could get away with it', and does not/is not allowed to apologise.</p><p>Happy Bank Holiday Monday bonus fic! I apologise that it's not especially happy /o\ I hope you enjoyed! As always I can be found on <a href="http://twitter.com/nymeriahale">twitter</a> and both my <a href="http://nymeriahale.tumblr.com">main</a> and <a href="http://fordfarrell.tumblr.com">rugby</a> tumblrs, and would love to hear from you either there or in the comments! (And whoever it is sending me fic asks on anon, I love you, come off anon and be friends!)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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